


Demons in the Night

by fireladybuckley



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Buck being sweet, Comfort, Comfort fic, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Reader with anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29244366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireladybuckley/pseuds/fireladybuckley
Summary: Reader attempts to deal with anxiety on their own, but Buck comes to help.This is purely a comfort fic. Woke up 3 hours early this morning full of anxiety and managed to channel it into this little fic.  Just thought I’d share in case someone needs this the way I did this morning <3
Relationships: Buck/Reader, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	Demons in the Night

You wake with a start without explanation, and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. You’re curled up in bed, tangled in a blanket, Buck’s warm arm draped over your side. You can hear his even breathing and know he’s still asleep as you suddenly become aware of your racing heart. You’re not sure if you were having a bad dream or if it’s just another night of restless sleep that woke you up, but either way, as you lie there, you can feel your anxieties closing in on you.

You take several deep breaths, trying to calm yourself and to think about anything besides the thing your anxiety is currently hyper-focused on, but it doesn’t work. After what feels like an eternity of lying there, attempting to think of something else, your anxiety hits you with full force and you whimper quietly, clutching the blanket to your chest. You can feel your leg aching to start bouncing but you don’t want to wake Buck, so you resist as long as you can, biting your lower lip hard as your mind and heart race in time, trying to control your breathing. 

After a few more long, insufferable moments, you can’t take it anymore and slowly and carefully slide out from under Buck’s arm, shifting out from under the blanket, putting your bed-warm feet down onto the cold wood floor. The stark contrast in temperature makes you shiver, and you wrap your arms around yourself as you quietly pad off to use the bathroom. When you return you are still feeling incredibly twitchy and anxious so you head downstairs as quietly as you can, taking a hoodie of Buck’s on your way.

Downstairs, you flip on only the oven light, not wanting the bright light of the kitchen to flood the apartment and wake him. You fill the kettle and plug it in, prepping a mug with some herbal tea, slipping Buck’s hoodie on as you wait for the water to boil. The warmth of the garment and his familiar scent calm you a little as you wait, tapping your foot constantly, though unaware you’re doing it. It feels like it takes forever for the water to finish, but finally you’re pouring the steaming liquid into your mug. Once the tea is steeped you bring it over to the kitchen island and settle into a chair, leaning over your cup and inhaling the steam wafting out of it. 

You let out a shaky breath as you attempt to stem the flow of thoughts racing through your head, your leg bouncing again without your notice. The anxiety feels utterly unbearable at times and though you long for nothing more than for Buck to wrap his arms around you and tell you it’ll be okay, you don’t want to bother him. You know he had a long shift the day before and you don’t want to interrupt the sleep he needs, so you suffer in silence, sipping your tea once it’s cool enough to do so, closing your eyes and desperately wishing away the feelings of dread coursing through you.

By the time your tea is half gone, you’ve fallen into a kind of stupor, staring blankly at the kitchen counter beyond the island where you sit, your fingers curled around your rapidly cooling mug as your brain wars between the intensity of the anxiety and the lethargy of exhaustion. You haven’t had a good night of sleep in weeks and you can really feel it catching up with you, your eyes drifting closed as your head droops a bit, even while the anxious thoughts continue to reign supreme.

You’re so out of it that you have no idea that anything in the apartment has changed until you suddenly feel a hand on your back. This touch, though entirely gentle, startles you so much that you gasp loudly and fumble your cup, spilling lukewarm tea over the table, swearing as the liquid streams across the surface and begins to drip onto your cotton pajama pants.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Buck apologizes, hurrying across the kitchen to grab a cloth, returning and mopping up the puddle of tea, dabbing at the wetness on the tops of your thighs. Tea mostly absorbed, Buck tosses the cloth aside and returns his hand to your back, gently rubbing slow circles into it.

“Are you okay? I woke up and you were gone.” Buck asks, his voice scratchy from sleep, stepping closer to you so that his bare chest is touching your side. His warmth sinks into your side and you feel yourself automatically leaning closer to him. He responds by wrapping his arm around your back, and you lean against his chest, still staring away across the kitchen, trying to ignore the wet spots on your pants that are quickly becoming cold in the cool air. 

“Can’t sleep,” you mumble, closing your eyes and pressing your head against his chest, feeling his other arm wrap around you as well, pulling you closer into a sideways hug.

“Are you anxious again?” he asks softly, and you nod silently into his embrace, unwilling to speak. You don’t want to elaborate; it’s the same thing you’ve been anxious about off and on for months and you know talking about it will do nothing. Sometimes, especially when you’re tired, you just can’t control the anxiety and though you rationally know how to work through it, sometimes you just lack the ability to summon the mental strength to do it. It wouldn’t be called mental illness if it was something that was easy to brush aside, after all.

“Do you want to talk, or just comfort?” he asks in that same soft voice, the one he always uses when you’re anxious, the one that leaves no doubt in your mind that he cares about you and just wants to make you feel better.

“Comfort,” you say in a tiny voice against his chest, letting out another shaky breath and turning in the chair towards him, wrapping your arms around his middle. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head as he holds you in a long, gentle hug, and you feel tears stinging your eyes as your anxiety briefly amps up before it starts to slow. Buck hears you give a small sniff and pulls away slightly to look down at you, curling a finger under your chin and tilting your head upwards. He moves the hand under your chin and you feel him wipe away a tear that had escaped your attention. You cast your eyes downward, feeling unusually vulnerable, and he wraps his arms around you once more, clearly sensing this. The steady sound of his heartbeat under your ear slowly lulls you into another semi-conscious state and you lean more heavily on him, which he also seems to notice.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” he asks after a few silent moments, and you contemplate the idea. You _don’t_ want to go back to bed, afraid of the demons that haunt you even more whenever you let your guard down to sleep, but you also know that you desperately need a few more hours if you’re going to be able to handle work that day. Knowing that at least you’ll fare better if Buck is holding you, you slowly shrug your shoulders, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

“I guess. I don’t know if I can sleep, though.” Buck threads his fingers through yours and squeezes gently, giving you a small, reassuring smile.

“Well, we can try, at least,” he says, giving your forehead a small kiss, a flicker of a smile briefly crossing your face at the sweet gesture. “Come on.”

Buck gently tugs on your hand and you reluctantly slide off the chair, shivering as your bare feet hit the cold tile this time. Buck quickly puts your tea mug in the sink and turns off the oven light, taking your hand once more and leading you up the stairs to the loft, the entire apartment lit only by the soft light of his bedroom lamp. You peel your tea-spotted pajama pants off and toss them into the hamper, shivering in the cool air as you move over to the bed.

You sigh heavily as you crawl into bed, immediately curling up on yourself, gnawing on your lower lip as Buck turns off the light and gets into bed beside you. You wait for him to get settled on his side, his front turned towards you. In the dark you feel rather than see him lift his upper arm, and you shuffle closer and snuggle up against his chest, laying your head on his other arm as he pulls the blanket up to your shoulder. You shiver slightly as his arm wraps around you from above and his other arm curls up around your back from below, shifting until you feel completely cocooned in his arms.

“I’m right here,” he says softly as you let out a shaky sigh, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You can relax, just breathe. I’m not going anywhere.”

You tilt your head upwards and briefly meet his lips with yours before curling back up against his chest. Attempting to take his advice, you try to let your muscles relax, focusing on the way his arms feel around you, the way the soft duvet feels against the skin of your bare arms and legs. He smells nice, as always, and you try to focus on his scent and the comfort of his embrace. You truly do feel protected and more relaxed in his arms and you take many long, deep breaths as he absently runs one of his hands up and down your back.

You’re not sure how long it takes, but at some point you finally feel the anxiety slowly subside and your body actually relaxes, feeling heavier and even more tired than you had before. Buck seems to sense this and squeezes you gently, shifting slightly to accommodate you as you snuggle in closer.

“Better?” he asks in a whisper, and you give a small nod against his chest.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your eyes closing as exhaustion overtakes you, making you feel as if gravity is doubling its effect on you.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmurs back, kissing your hair once more. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your words are barely a whisper as sleep strongly beckons. Within moments you finally succumb, completely relaxing in his arms as his protective embrace temporarily keeps the demons at bay, allowing you to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought. Thanks for reading <3


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